


If Not Victory…

by micehell



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M, not quite fully consensual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-11
Updated: 2007-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon's lost a lot over the years, but sometimes it's a gift rather than a sacrifice</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Not Victory…

**Author's Note:**

> Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. _Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 105._

The Genii half track lumbers down the small, cobbled street, the rear track grinding loose brick into a dust cloud that swirls slowly in the air behind it. It looks enormous and alien in the narrow streets of Athos, and the residents make their careful way around it, eyes warily watching it before darting away again, not wanting to call attention to themselves.  
Kolya's standing at the side of the gunner, one hand waving royally at the Athosians, the other resting lightly on the machine gun mount. A threat hiding behind a genial veneer is his trademark, and only the foolish let the smirk distract them from the very real danger underneath.

Ronon isn't fooled, and hasn't been for long, long years. He's watching from his perch in the tiny bell tower of the church, crouching down behind the low walls to wait out of sight. He fingers his Welrod 9mm, letting its familiar shape, letting its function, ground him. It won't be long now.

He sees the men creep in at the corners of the square as the half track makes its way slowly across it and he's leaping over the sides of the tower even as they open fire. Bullets are striking all around, taking down some of Kolya's men, pinning others. The gunner's dead, his body catching against the machine gun, and Kolya is struggling to push him off, to gain control of the gun even as Ronon lands hard, rolling to take the strain off his legs.

His last roll has him on his feet, his coat flaring around him as he fires, diving into the mass of men. It's a risk, getting in among Kolya's men, because he has no idea which way _they'll_ fire, but it's a good show, just like the coat. It's all unnecessary movement, not in the least efficient, but it's far more dramatic this way. He can feel eyes on him like a touch, and he bares his teeth, part threat and part thrill that this is working.

A tall, bearded man, one of the Resistance fighters, is aiming directly at Kolya, sighting down the barrel of his Sten, and at that distance there's no way he can miss. Kolya's still pushing at the gunner's body, his desperation actually showing on his usually impassive face, when Ronon fires. A bright red blossom appears on the tall man's chest, heavy and viscous like blood, and he falls back, the Sten clattering on the brick even as his comrades drag him out of the square.

The fighting dies down in a flash, stunned silence falling behind it, but Kolya's men are well-trained, and they start to follow, only to be brought up short by Kolya's voice, soft in the square, but loud with the weight of his command. "Stop. Don't follow them. Who knows what else they have set up. We'll come back for them later, when we have reinforcements." He pauses, looking around the square at the frightened faces of the Athosians that have started to appear now that the fighting is over. "I'm sure the good people of Athos will only be too happy to help up when we return."

The Athosians look anything but happy, and none of them are looking at the genial mien Kolya is bestowing on them, but there are nods towards each other, towards the ground, tacit agreement given to anyone or anything but Kolya. Ronon isn't worried about what they might say. He'll either be gone or dead by the time then.

He slouches back against a stone wall, feeling the pock marks where bullets have struck it, nonchalance in every loose line of his body. He's counting down in his head, but he's only gotten to ten before Kolya calls to him. "You, with the strange gun."

Ronon frowns at that. The Welrod is his baby, and he doesn't want to hear anything against it, but then he remembers his role and looks at Kolya, nothing showing on his face but disinterest. "Yeah?"

Kolya's eyes narrow at the near lack of respect, but he purses his lips in consideration. "That was a good shot you made. Timely, even."

That makes Ronon's breath catch, wondering what Kolya suspects, but he breathes softly out when Kolya continues, "What can I do for you to repay the favor?"

Ronon had originally thought to ask for a job -- scout, waiter, whatever -- but he can see that Kolya's still suspicious, so that won't work. He's keeping his panic off his face, but his mind is racing to come up with an alternate plan, and planning's never been his strong point, especially under pressure.

When the driver of the half track stands up beside Kolya, his vacant gaze lazily taking in the square and everyone in it, it's like a blessing. He's familiar, his face tickling at the back of Ronon's mind, but Ronon can't place where he's seen him, or if he just reminds him of someone else. He doesn't really care, anyway, because it doesn't matter now. All that matters is the hand that Kolya has wrapped around the man's bicep, instinctively staking his claim.

Ronon remembers hearing rumors about why Kolya was stationed out on the distant front rather than one of the main Genii bases. Cowen's never been all that tolerant of differences, either among the world he's apparently trying to conquer or his own men, and a preference for men, even one that's as attractive as this, would be enough for Cowen to keep Kolya at a distance, still useful, but not in sight.

Kolya's catamite is pretty without being feminine, even the kohl that's lining his eyes doing nothing to disguise that he's a man, just bringing out the green in them. Years have made their mark on him in the lines edging in around those eyes, but his face is still striking, even though it's too thin, too pale; ghostly, haunted. This is probably Kolya's mark on him, not unlike the hand on his arm, and Ronon could almost feel sorry for him. He might have at one time, before Melena.

He's never wanted a man before, hasn't wanted _anyone_ in years, but Ronon wants this one. He's Kolya's whore. He's Ronon's ticket. And the fact that he's attractive doesn't exactly sour the bargain, saying that Kolya even goes for it.

Keeping his eyes on the whore, Ronon can see the sleepy blankness momentarily turn to surprise when he says, "Him. Give me a night with him, and we'll call it even."

The whore's face goes back to impassive, but Ronon thinks he saw some worry there before the man turned to Kolya, looking for his reaction. Ronon's looking for it, too, thinking he knows how Kolya what it will be -- either an amused denial with a lessening of his suspicions or an amused agreement with the same, and either will work for Ronon -- but not sure enough not to be on his guard.

Kolya's scowling, his face dark with it, and Ronon's beginning to calculate how fast he can change the cartridge in his gun to something a little more deadly than what's in there now, when the scowl fades. Kolya's hand has tightened cruelly around the whore's arm, the flesh white around his fingers, but neither of them is showing what they're thinking, one face mild, the other smirking again. "I don't usually share," he pauses, always a whore himself for dramatic effect, then, "but for someone like you, I might just make an exception. What's your name?"

And this is a test, what could potentially be a fatal mistake, but Ronon's already thought of this. "Dex. My name's Dex." It is his name, but not one most people have known him by, not a name that Kolya should have heard, but one that he has ID to back up, anyway. There was another Dex in his unit, back when there was still a Satedan military to have a unit, back when he was still in it, and Dex, R. had become just Ronon to make it clearer who was being called.

Kolya calls him now. "Dex. Well, Dex," and the way he's emphasizing the name, Ronon's sure he doesn't believe it, which is amusing in itself, if also a little worrying, "why don't you come back to the base with me? I have some visitors staying for dinner, but I'm sure you'll be more entertaining than any of them. And who knows? If you amuse me enough, perhaps I really will share Lyad with you."

Dinner will also be a test, Ronon's sure of that, and he knows he'll be watched, but it's a test he intends to ace, so he nods, all ease and unconcern. "Sure. Why not?"

His smirk in place again, Kolya pushes Lyad back down into his driver's role, one hand waving the command to proceed. His men form up into two groups, ahead and behind the vehicle, and they make their steady way out of the small town, Ronon trailing behind them.

He's in.

::::::::::

Dinner is a strange affair, oddly formal even among the less than genteel trappings of the base. There are expensive china plates and crystal goblets set on white, starched linen, but they sit on a coarse wood table with metal legs that fold, made for ease of storage and portability rather than fine dining. There are lights from softly glowing lamps, from a silver candelabra, that glint richly, but their warmth fades into the stark gray walls of the concrete bunker.

It's a mismatch of elegance and practicality, not unlike the guest list. There are diplomats and scientists from all over the world, come to court Kolya's favor -- and thereby Cowen's supposedly, but many people suspect that that was only a matter of time -- sitting there with Kolya's often rough soldiers, breaking out in bursts of song as the evening progressed and the beer flowed, and the softer discussions of science, art and literature are periodically drowned out by off key versions of the _Genii Internationale_ and off color drinking songs.

Ronon watches it all, bemused by the antics of both groups. The only one who has less to say than he does is Kolya's whore, who eats as little as he says, and spends most of the evening looking like he doesn't have a thought in his head. Ronon almost believes it's true.

Perna, a scientist there to work with Kolya's own cadre of them, spends the first part of the evening looking overwhelmed in the company, her delicate features showing her fear far too easily, and Ronon wonders how desperate Hoff is to protect its citizens that they're forming alliances with the likes of Kolya, that they're sacrificing their own like this. Perna eventually settles down, though, when Beckett, one of the Tau'ri scientists, starts flirting with her. The way her face lights up when they discuss chemical _defenses_ , apparently oblivious to the impact on human lives, leaves Ronon wondering if maybe the rest of them don't need protecting from her instead.

Ronon is more surprised at the Tau'ri, though. Dr. Weir is there, one of their best diplomats, along with Beckett and McKay, who were also tops in their fields, as if they were paying honor to Kolya, but for all the Tau'ri's determined claims of neutrality in Pegasus, Ronon can't believe they've forgotten, nor forgiven, what happened to their base at Atlantis. He can see it in the faint wariness in Weir's eyes, in the pauses in Beckett's conversation as he remembers to censor himself, and in the scowling disdain that seems to flow from McKay's entire body, though with McKay that might have just been his personality.

Everyone knows it was Kolya's orders that took out Atlantis, though all the physical proof of it is lying in the radioactive remains of the base, in the burned out shells of the bombers that had thrown themselves at the anti-aircraft defenses until one slipped through, crashing its payload into the base rather than dropping it, crude but effective. The countryside around the base will be uninhabitable for years, its vast resources unavailable to the Genii, who, fighting on multiple fronts, desperately needed them, but this was the cost of Kolya's pride after his first attempt on the base had failed. _Everyone_ knows this… yet the Tau'ri seem unwilling to retaliate for it.

Ronon figures their defenses are still somewhat strained by their own long war with the Goa'uld, and maybe they think the war that's raging across Pegasus is somewhat distant from the safer shores of their own continent, but the ocean between them isn't that wide, and the Tau'ri have to know that eventually the Genii, eventually _Kolya_ , will cross it. Atlantis has to have shown them that.

Atlantis, where Weir, Beckett, and McKay had all been, only alive here at Kolya's table because of an accident of timing. Yet Weir calmly sits there discussing literature with the pretty mayor of Athos, and Beckett flirts with a pretty scientist whose job means death to someone, and McKay, complains about the flowers in the centerpiece, the cleanliness of his tableware, and the possibility of citrus in his food, all while stealing looks at Kolya's pretty whore.

Where Ronon's confused by their behavior, Kolya just seems amused, though Ronon guesses maybe they're all acting, considering Kolya's looking right at McKay when he tells Ronon, "Well, you've been as entertaining as I thought you would be," even though Ronon's barely said a word all evening, "and I've decided to be generous and share my toy."

He has the whore's face in his hand, suggestively pushing his thumb into his mouth, but he still has McKay in his peripheral vision when he says, "Lyad will do whatever you want, won't you, Lyad?" He doesn't wait for an answer, nodding the whore's head himself, his thumb still stroking into the mouth. Lyad doesn't react to any of this except to suck the thumb dutifully, the look on his face as bland as if he were discussing the weather, and maybe he really doesn't have a thought in his head. His eyes don't even flicker when Kolya adds, "Just make sure there's no… permanent damage."

The whore's not reacting, but McKay is, his expression wavering between anger and surprise, and his mouth is open, probably to say something scathing, but it shuts when a snap, a moan of pain escaping between the down-turned corners when he bends over to rub at his leg even as, beside him, Weir stands up.

She smiles at Kolya, all professional smoothness, saying, "It's been a lovely evening, Commander, but I think it's time we retired now and left you to your… entertainments." She looks pointedly at McKay, pulling him and Beckett in her wake with an almost invisible control, and they trail after her, McKay looking back unhappily for a moment before she barks out, "Rodney", drawing him back in line.

Ronon feels like he's in a farce where he doesn't know the lines, but everyone else is clearing from the table now, leaving the last three players to their stage, and Lyad's looking at him with almost hidden curiosity, those green eyes glittering in the candlelight in a way nothing else in the room is, and Ronon feels his own curiosity engage, wondering what part this man is playing.

The elusive feeling that he recognizes him man is still there, but Ronon loses the thread of the memory when Kolya laughs. "I see you're as entranced by Lyad as I am. Good, good. He's a reward well worth having. But why don't you let my batsman show you to your room so that you can get settled, clean up a little, perhaps. I'll send Lyad to you later."

The batsman appears at Ronon's shoulder, all efficiency, but it's Kolya's sudden focus on Lyad, the kiss that's open mouthed, deep, Kolya's tongue fucking the unresisting mouth in obvious dominance, that's the dismissal, and Ronon obeys it readily. He's not looking to call attention to himself now, letting Kolya again stake his claim without comment. If the man's jealous, if he never sends the whore to Ronon, it's all for the best. It's a complication that Ronon can do without. He allows the batsman to lead him away, ignoring the sounds of shattering china behind him, ignoring the voice in his head, probably belonging to his dick, that hopes Kolya will keep his word.

::::::::::

The bed is soft, and so is Melena's skin, and Ronon's so excited he feels he can come just from this, from touching her. He's come at just the thought of it before. But he wants this to be good for both of them, and he doesn't want her to think of him a callow youth or a virgin -- even though, at sixteen, he's both -- so he thinks every inhibiting thought he can to stave off his imminent orgasm. It's the image of his mother and father having sex that finally does it for him, which is a relief even as it disturbs him that he thought of it in the first place, and he has to work to shut the images out to get back in the proper frame of mind.

Melena laughs at him, well aware of all his shortcomings, he can never keep anything hidden from her, but she loves him anyway, pulling him down to her, showing him where to put his hands, his tongue, his cock. It's soft and wet and unbearably exciting, but he holds on for her, he holds on, waiting to feel her clench around him before he comes, deep in her, so deep he's drowning. She's laughing again, breathless, kissing him as he falls on top of her, and he never wants to let her go, but years are blurring by, and they're pulling her away from him, Kolya's men pulling her away, and he's helpless, bleeding, dying, his own pain and fear fading into darkness even as her screams follow him down.

Ronon's not sure if it's the dream that wakes him or the sound of someone knocking at the door. He lies there for a moment, still feeling the rage that always comes with that dream, and he almost doesn't let Lyad in, unable to face even the thought of intimacy right then. But Kolya will suspect if he sends him away, and his anger only increases when he sees the whore, the beautiful whore, almost as pretty as Melena was, before, and just the thought that this man brings Kolya pleasure is enough to make Ronon smack him across the face.

Lyad almost falls, but he throws it off, his face showing nothing but a hand print as he turns back to Ronon, waiting for what he'll do next. He'll let Ronon do anything he wants, just like he lets Kolya do anything he wants, and Ronon hates him so much in that moment he can barely keep from killing him.

Ronon's control is never the best when his emotions are strong, and he knows he should be planning ahead, waiting for what he has to do tonight, but those lips are full, still slightly swollen from Kolya's attentions, bruised and inviting, and it's been so long. Threading his fingers through the dark hair, already mussed by Kolya's fingers, by some art, he pushes him down to his knees, pulls his face closer to his groin, still soft even with all this provocation. "Suck me."

The fingers are quick and efficient, opening his pants, pulling his dick out, and though the face is still blank, the mouth has talent, trying to coax him to hardness with strong suction, a flick of the tongue, a faint scrape of teeth. But the thing that finally works is those clever fingers on his gun.

Ronon had taken off his coat to rest, but he's still wearing his holster, a false security inside Kolya's camp, but a comforting one all the same, too much a part of him to voluntarily let go. The whore's touching the gun, feeling out its dimensions, apparently studying it even with Ronon's dick down his throat, and, gods, Ronon doesn't want to know why that's the thing that makes him hard when the touch on his _flesh_ didn't. He thinks about how Melena hated guns, how he'd rarely worn one then, let alone to bed, and his hate grows to include the whole world, himself included, for teaching him something about himself he's never wanted to know.

He pulls Lyad away, the rational part of his brain vying for attention, chanting, "The plan, the plan," but there's a trail of saliva connecting him to swollen lips, and those eyes are so very green here in the low light of the room, made larger by the kohl circling them, and Ronon realizes it isn't just the intimacy of someone touching his weapon, of someone touching _him_ that's driving this. He wants this man in a way that's almost foreign to him, desire a forgotten emotion in the years-old anger.

Just moments ago he'd been remembering his first time, and here's another. He's never been with a man before, certainly never fucked one, but he's got the idea, and he has the power here, so he pulls Lyad up, yanks clothes off a body that's far harder and far more scarred than Ronon would have expected, but that just makes him want him more. Want him now, and Ronon pushes him down onto the bed, impatient to lose another part of himself.

The sex isn't soft, and it isn't kind; this is nothing like Melena. The whore lets him push in hard, grip too tight. He lets him. Ronon whispers that to himself as he thrusts in. But the memories of Melena are pounding in his head with his pulse, and he wants to fuck them out, the good and the bad, wants to slam into the body beneath him until there's nothing left of either of them, and he could, he would, but though the body below him isn't fighting, though the silhouette he can see is calm, Ronon can feel the pulse that’s racing beneath the hand he has half curled around that long neck, and he can feel it's not desire that fuels it.

Ronon wants to ignore it. He wants to make Kolya pay for Melena, even if by proxy. Ronon wants someone else to hurt like he does. But he isn't Kolya, and he can't stand to hurt someone just because he can. He can't ignore it, his softening dick slipping out, and Ronon falls to the bed beside Lyad, his hand still resting lightly on that neck, petting it as he feels the pulse slow. He knows he's whispering something, but he has no idea what, the words meaning nothing but a vague attempt at comfort, though he doesn't know which of them he's trying to soothe.

It could be a minute, it could be an hour, when Lyad turns to him, face still impassive, but Ronon can see the curiosity lurking behind it. "Did I do something to displease you?"

Which is exactly what a whore would say, should say. Ronon, far more perceptive than most people think looking at him, snorts and claps his hand. "Good performance. I almost believe you."

The whore is still looking at him, considering, but he grins at that, the amusement real if nothing else. "Really?"

"No."

And gods help him, Ronon shouldn't find that pout anything but annoying, but everything seems to be out of his control here. The whore's still watching him, still studying him, and Ronon wonders what he's looking for. He should probably be making up a lie right now, something that will allay Kolya's suspicions when he hears it, but Ronon's so tired, so very fucking tired, and he can't really bring himself to care.

There's a light brush against his face, callused fingers brushing over his cheek. "You didn't have to stop. If you need more… participation, I can do that."

And Ronon is sure he can. Kolya would never have kept him if he couldn't fake his enjoyment better than that, if he couldn't make himself hard, make himself come, even in pain. But he's not Kolya, thank every deity he's ever heard of. "I like my partners to be willing."

Lyad grins, and the fingers move down from Ronon's cheek to trace lightly around his lips. Whatever the eyes had been searching for, they've stopped, only amusement in them now. And a little heat. Ronon feels an answering flare of it himself, his attraction still there. But this isn't a good idea, it leaves him too vulnerable, and Ronon pushes the fingers away. "No."

The pout is back, not so much an act this time, and Ronon can feel his control slipping again. He doesn't want to believe that a pretty face can make him so sloppy, but he has the evidence right before him. Something else about himself that he didn't want to learn.

The whore turns over on his side, resting his head on his bent arm, back to considering him, and Ronon can almost see the leap of faith when he says, "My name's John."

Not Kolya's name for him, certainly, but then Ronon suspects that Lyad is something insulting in Genii, not a real name. This feels like an admission, like a secret given up, and Ronon rolls it around on his tongue. "John."

John's fingers are touching him again, stealth attacks that he doesn't see coming, caught up in green eyes and secrets revealed, but the soft scrape of a nail on his nipple is electric, the drag of calluses across his stomach makes him bite his lip to hold back a moan, and the grip on his dick makes him give up his name like an offering, "Ronon. My name's Ronon."

If John recognizes the name, he doesn't show it. Ronon can only hope his own leap of faith isn't going to get him killed, because Kolya would certainly recognize it, would remember all the losses -- most small, but some that must have hurt -- that have been attributed to that name.

But Kolya's not what's on his mind when he reaches out, wrapping long fingers around that sweet neck again, and feels the desperate flutter underneath them. It's not fear or pain this time, John's dick is hard against his hip, and Ronon knows this isn't an act. It's dangerous what they're doing, the truth they've laid between them, and Ronon's not sure why either of them are being this foolish, but it doesn't stop him from taking John in hand. This is new, too, another virginity lost, but Ronon can swear he hears Melena's soft laugh as he strokes John to orgasm, can feel her pleasure in his as he shouts out his own release, and he remembers that sometimes loosing something is a gift rather than a sacrifice.

Ronon's tired afterwards, emotional release hitting him as hard as the physical, and he can only lie there and let John clean him up. His clothes are put back to rights, the long modified holster that holds his gun is unbuckled, placed on the bed beside him like a lover, the Welrod half out of its sheath, making it easier to draw if he needs it. Ronon smiles at John's thoughtfulness, smiles through the kiss, soft and sweet, and he's slipping into sleep even before John leaves the room.

It's only an hour later that he's up, slipping his holster and coat back on, armored again, ready to go. He feels different, oddly hopeful where only determination had been before, and he wonders if that's because he got laid or because he finally remembers why he recognizes John.

As he fires the Welrod at the guard at his door, the gun spitting out its silent death, he decides it doesn't really matter. If John's being here means what he thinks, he has a better chance to finish his mission than he'd thought, and that's all right with him.

But as Ronon slips down the hall, humming to himself under his breath, he can't help the smile that's tugging at his lips, because getting laid hadn't exactly hurt, either.

::::::::::

There are few guards for Ronon to deal with as he makes his way to the heart of the bunker, a vast room far below the surface, where most of the money used to build the base had gone. The three massive steam turbines there nearly fill the space, strong enough to not only power the base above, but also the series of seemingly endless labs that spread out on all sides. Labs where Kolya's scientists, some more willing than others, spend there time coming up with better and more deadly ways to give Kolya the power he wants.

Ronon would never have spotted John, silent and hidden, the kohl blackening his face now, instead of just lining his eyes, the color a match for the fatigues he wore, but McKay, though dressed the same, has nothing of John's stealth about him. Ronon hears his too loud whisper -- "Okay, fine. You want a number? Fine. Seven minutes and thirty-one seconds. Are you happy?" -- rooms away. John's much quieter, "No!" trails away when he sees Ronon. His finger is on the trigger of his gun, but he doesn't fire, waiting to see what Ronon will do.

 

Ronon grins, pleased that he'd guessed right, pleased that his little descent into thinking with his dick hasn't cost him this mission or his life. He also grins because showing John he's not a threat is in his best interest right now. He says, "So I take it you guys are going to blow the turbines."

McKay is sputtering, but John just puts a hand on his shoulder, calming him down almost instantly. "It's okay, Rodney. He's on our side." He's looking at Ronon, grinning himself when he says, "He's Satedan."

It's only a word, but it's recent history, and it obviously tells McKay all he needs to know, because he ignores Ronon then, turning his attention back to his job. "Well, as I was saying, the first explosion should give us a _couple_ of minutes while Kolya's men are distracted. That'll give the others time to find the research they're looking for and all of us time to get out before the main explosions happen."

Ronon's happy that McKay's here, actually, since he hadn't been looking forward to applying the rushed lessons in engineering Halling had given him. He just hopes that Halling's men are holding out against the soldiers in the village, and that the base won't be getting any reinforcements from there until it's too late. He lets McKay's complaints -- "Look, you wanted a number" -- wash over him, automatically putting his back to them, keeping watch over the passage he took to get there, letting John take the other side.

For all their care, McKay's just finishing up -- "Why don't I just go on these missions by myself?" -- when a door none of them had been aware of, that hadn't shown up on any of the blueprints that Halling's people had stolen, opened to their side, letting Kolya slip through, two of his men behind him, making it three guns to three, but considering John and Ronon's are facing the wrong way, and McKay's isn't even drawn, it's not exactly even. Kolya doesn't say anything, but a telling look at them along with a shake of his gun gets John and Ronon to, reluctantly, drop their weapons.

McKay's gone quiet, which surprises Ronon until he sees that John's edging McKay back a little, standing in front of him, obviously meaning to be the one in charge here. Ronon takes his lead, letting John talk. "Little late for a midnight stroll, isn't it?"

Kolya's feeling expansive, apparently, because he spreads his arms wide, letting his men keep them covered, and he's almost beaming at them as he says, "I could say the same of you, Lyad. Or should I say Colonel Sheppard."

John doesn't appear surprised by Kolya's knowledge, but then the man's good at covering. Ronon's surprised, though, and he wonders what Kolya's been playing at if he knew who John was all along, but that's apparently something John's not going to ask about, saying instead, "Well, you know, sometimes I get the munchies late at night."

Still radiating false bonhomie, Kolya nods. "And, of course, the turbine room is the exact place to go to settle those odd cravings."

"Would you believe me if I tell you I absorb energy through a mouth in my hand? Yeah, I didn't think so."

Kolya laughs, but the mask is off, nothing of humor in him now, just threat. He crowds in close to John, pushing him back into Rodney, ignoring Ronon entirely as he says, "Oh, I believe you. Just like I believed you were nothing but a common soldier when you first asked to join my men. Like I believed you were enjoying yourself when I fucked you."

He's looking at Rodney when he says that last part, deliberately provoking him like he had at dinner, and Ronon realizes that Kolya knows something about John and McKay that he doesn't. It stings a tiny bit, the thought that John already belongs to someone else, someone he honestly cares about, but Ronon really has more important things to mind at the moment. He's watching Kolya's men, hoping that their commander's ongoing rant, or at least the explosion that's coming, will distract them, give him a chance to turn the tables. He marks where his gun is, already imagining the moves he has to make to grab it, to turn and fire. No wasted flourishes this time, no dramatic show.

McKay's gone pale with a slight greenish cast, and Ronon sees that even though he's part of their mission, even though he must have known what it entailed, that McKay is still horrified by what John had to do. Ronon's opinion of the man goes up at that. Melena had always had a mind of her own, but even though he couldn't, wouldn't, have stopped her from taking a mission like John's if she thought it important, he never would have agreed with it.

John pushes Kolya back a little, drawing the attention back to himself as he finally asks the question Ronon had wondered about. "Damn, there goes my acting award. If you knew who I was, why did you let me stay?"

Kolya steps back as John steps forward, but it's only to draw him away from McKay, and his arms go around John's waist, hugging him closely. He's almost kissing the words onto John's mouth when he says, "Because I wanted to see what you were up to. Because I wanted to see who you were working with." He grinds himself into against John's hips, obviously excited. "Because I wanted to fuck you. Still want to fuck you. Shall we give Dr. McKay a little show? Let him see what a very good whore you are?"

If he's trying to upset John, he's doing a bad job of it. John's loose in his grip, not struggling at all. McKay, on the other hand, is hardly holding himself back, his eyes glaring death at Kolya, but his lips are faintly rounding out numbers, counting down, and he's ready when the explosion shakes the room, cement dust and steam clouding around them, and he pulls John away from Kolya, shouting, "Run!"

Ronon and John both ignore him, going for their guns instead. Ronon takes down both of Kolya's men and he's ready to take out Kolya, too, but John and Kolya are playing out some kind of western showdown, both of them armed, guns pointing at each other. Neither one's shooting, but neither one's giving up, either.

Kolya says, "I should have killed you when we first met. It would have saved me a lot of trouble."

John nods, answers, "The feeling's mutual." He pauses, thinking for a moment. "If I gave you the opportunity to surrender, I don't suppose you'd take it?"

Kolya just softly laughs, hand tightening on his gun.

John shrugs. "I didn't think so." And faster than even Ronon's eye could follow, he fires.

Not even having time to look surprised, Kolya crumpled to the floor, his blood slowly pooling out to join his men's.

Tugging McKay forward, John doesn't even look back as he left, calling to Ronon over his shoulder, "Come on, we only have a _couple_ of minutes left of our distraction."

Ronon looks down at Kolya, thinking that after years of tracking the man, years of plotting for a moment like this, he should feel more than he does, vindicated in some way. All he feels is adrift, his one overriding goal in life accomplished. Having nothing better to do, he follows John and McKay.

::::::::::

They're arguing again.

"Are we even going in the right direction?"

"West."

"It looks east to me."

John's exasperated, "West!" should have ended it, but McKay's like a dog who's been told to stop barking, unable to keep from giving that last little yip, "It's just that there's a whole bunch of Genii to the east of here, and I don't want to find them."

Ronon ignores them. They had actually been going east when they'd first started out, John bolding striding in the wrong direction, but Ronon had managed to get them back on the right track without too much trouble, both of them so distracted by the arguing that Ronon figures must be their version of foreplay that neither of them noticed what he'd done. He's about to tell them to shut up -- again -- when he hears Beckett's voice, sounding tired and worried, about a hundred yards in front of them. "But they said they'd be here at 10, and it's already 11 now."

Weir's voice has the same measured tone Ronon had heard last night, but he thinks there's an edge of worry in it, too. "They'll be here, Carson. You know those two, they can't resist making a dramatic entrance."

Their entrance isn't really all that dramatic, the three of them coming quietly into the small camp that the others had made while they waited. Weir and Beckett are there, of course, and Perna and Teyla, the mayor of Athos. Halling had been afraid that Teyla was too scared to move on Kolya, but apparently she was just playing her cards close to her vest.

Weir hugs John when she sees him, holding him like it's been a long time even though they'd just seen each other last night. Ronon guesses that it's been a while since she's seen John as _John_ , though. Teyla is happy to see him, too, bringing John's head down to meet hers, something Ronon had seen Halling do with his family. Tau'ri he may be, but John obviously has ties here in Pegasus.

They all seem happy to see each other, even Perna's smiling, though that's probably more to do with the fact that she's free from Kolya's lab than because she knows the Tau'ri all that well. Ronon's apparently the only one who feels like an outsider.

Ronon, John and Teyla keep a light guard while the others go through the files they'd stolen from Kolya's office. McKay's paging quickly through them, verbally annotating their worth -- "Junk, junk, hopelessly wrong, oh, this looks kind of promising" -- until he finds something that makes him pause. Teyla and John are speaking in hushed voices, but John looks over then, drawn by Rodney's silence. "What is it?"

Weir's looking at the file, too, her face for once clearly showing her thoughts. She turns to answer John, letting him see her sorrow. "It's the order for the attack on Atlantis."

John's face grows hard, and his throat works hard to swallow it down. "Well, it wasn't like we didn't know."

Everyone knew, Ronon thinks again. But then everyone knew that Colonel Sheppard had died in the attack, too, so maybe that doesn't mean much. Certainly the Tau'ri aren't as complacent about the attack as they're led everyone to believe, not if they're moving against the Genii. It occurs to Ronon that maybe the _Tau'ri_ aren't moving against the Genii, but rather this small group of them. He knows what he'd done when Kolya had attacked something he'd loved, how he'd given up his place in the Satedan military to follow his revenge even before the Genii had wiped the Satedan army out.

Teyla is pulling them all together. "We must go. There are still troops in the area, and we do not want to get caught out in the open. I have a safe place we can go and rest while I get word to Halling."

She's looking at Ronon when she says that, one brow arched in a tacit question, obviously aware of who he's been dealing with, but still questioning where his loyalties lie. Ronon just salutes her. He has no loyalties now, but he doesn't wish her harm, either.

She leads them off, on a trail he can barely see, and he lets his mind drift, following blindly behind. He's so lost in his thoughts he flinches when John appears beside him, but he shrugs it off. "Did you need something?"

It's John's turn to shrug, and he falls into step with Ronon, not saying anything else. He's smiling though, either amused by the circumstances or by Rodney's voice further up the line, still evaluating the research files -- "Oh my god, I can't believe how wrong they were about this!"

He only breaks the silence when a small beetle lands on his neck, and he slaps at it in panic, shivering, still tense and looking for more of them even after he's killed the first.

Ronon sniggers at the thought of a soldier of Sheppard's legendary status freaking out over an insect. "You can face down one of the most feared soldiers on this continent without even breaking a sweat, but you're afraid of a bug?"

John tries to laugh back, but it's a little forced, nervous. Ronon's not sure that's entirely the bug's fault. He steps closer to John to test his theory, and isn't surprised when John steps away, though he does it casually. He tries for casual with his voice, too, but the pitch is slightly higher than normal, his reluctance to talk driving it up. "About what happened…"

Ronon shakes his head. "Nothing happened." When John opens his mouth to argue, Ronon stops, looking him directly in the eye. "Nothing happened."

John's immediate relief at Ronon's denial tells him that he made the right call. If a little rewrite of history is what it takes to make John comfortable around him now that the immediate crisis is over, Ronon can give it to him. It all has the element of a dream, anyway. And while he might wonder where things could have gone if McKay wasn't in the picture, Ronon's heart is one of the few things John didn't touch last night.

Not that Ronon's going to think about that anymore. Mostly.

John's whole body seems at ease now that they're not going to talk about it, and his stride is almost boncy when he starts them walking again. His voice is back to the relaxed drawl Ronon remembers teasing him last night, when the thing that didn't happen didn't happen. "What are you going to do now?"

He doesn't say, now that you don't have plans anymore, but Ronon can hear it anyway. He's thought the same thing often enough since he looked down on Kolya's dead body and realized that, regardless of who pulled the trigger, he'd finally gotten his revenge. He's no nearer to an answer now than he was then. "Don't know."

"Well, why don't you come with us for a while. Until you do know, that is."

Ronon gets that this is still part of John's leap of faith. Apparently whatever he'd seen in Ronon's eyes, in Ronon's actions, last night has led him to trust him, to overlook that the evening before had pretty much started as rape, regardless of the fact that John had let it happen. But if it had been a long time since Ronon had felt desire, it's been just as long since he's felt the need to trust anyone. To be trusted by them. In its way, this is even better than the sex. That didn't happen.

So he shrugs again, trusting that John will read his acceptance in it. Which John does, smiling back over his shoulder as he jogs to catch up to McKay, who's still horrified over the wrongness of Kolya's scientists -- "Blind, one-armed, brain dead monkeys could have done better work than this" -- leaving Ronon to bring up the rear.

He keeps his eyes open, alert for any of Kolya's men that might be around. Just because Kolya's dead, it doesn't mean that the Genii threat is over. But even with that threat still hanging over them, he feels better than he has for far too long, a sense of purpose once again stealing over him. This odd group, full of what may or may not have been dispossessed Tau'ri in alliance with a very beleaguered Athos, is going to need a lot of help.

Ronon starts humming to himself, enjoying having a new goal. And he still can't keep the smile from tugging at his lips, because, denial aside, getting laid again had been good. He really hadn't realized just how much he missed having sex.

He watches Teyla walking ahead, her strides sure on strong legs, and wonders if she's seeing anyone.

/story


End file.
